The Raven

Thirteen

Henry has to effortfully fight back the smile that threatens to overtake his face, a strange warmth and happiness spreading through his chest at the thought of giving the beautiful boy before him a name. He ponders quietly for only a moment before asking, "What about 'Caleb?'"

"Caleb..." the raven repeats, testing out the name, the way it forms on his tongue. His crimson eyes light up as he bursts into a bright and almost impossibly broad smile. His body tingles in appreciation and excitement at the sound of his name--his very own name! It is like a dream come true for the raven, a lovingly crafted patch that somehow fits perfectly over one of the many gaping voids within his heart. He had never expected someone could care enough to give him a name, and such a lovely one, at that; Caleb is probably the most melodic and certainly the prettiest name he has ever heard. Not that he has much to compare it to, but that does not bother him. "I like it very much," he says to the prince, his ecstatic grin softening into a warm smile of gratitude. "Thank you, Your Highness."

Unable to suppress his own smile any longer, Henry's own lips curl upwards widely, reveling in the sheer elation he feels at this moment. He takes a step closer to the other boy, longing to reach out to him, but withholds himself from actually attempting to touch him. The two are like magnets, being pulled together by a powerful force. However, a sliver of fear prevents Henry from taking action; this situation is far too new and too delicate to make such bold moves now. As much as he wants to pull Caleb into his arms and kiss him senseless, he must refrain until Caleb's comfort and consent are equally known to him. Instead, he simply says, "Please, Caleb. Call me 'Henry.'"

With pinkening cheeks, Caleb briefly glances away, trying to contain the foreign feeling of embarrassment that is suddenly rushing through him. He coughs awkwardly, hoping to dislodge whatever obstruction has unexpectedly lodged itself there. "So, what are you doing in the tower, Henry?" he asks, hoping to distract both the prince and himself from his body's strange reactions to whatever seems to be happening between them. "Are you not going to get into trouble for being here?"

Caleb's voice saying his name makes Henry's smile stretch further across his face, his eyes crinkling in the corners and his bright blue irises twinkling as his happiness consumes his every feature. For some reason unknown to Henry, the name sounds infinitely better than ever before. It glides over Caleb's tongue and slips off his lips in an arousing way that Henry cannot begin to describe, causing a slight unfamiliar constriction in both his throat and his pants. It is like the name was given to him only so he could hear it come from Caleb's lips. His soft, pink, kissable lips...

Henry clears his throat, trying to shake away those thoughts. He has no idea where exactly they came from; he has never felt like this before. The prince tries desperately to redirect his attention to the ongoing conversation, hoping to maintain the levelness of his voice and not direct Caleb's awareness to the rather prominent bulge he is currently awkwardly sporting. "I will likely get in trouble, yes," he rushes out almost too quickly, mentally cringing at Caleb's evident curiosity about his suddenly strange behavior. "But that is not important now," Henry continues, forcing his voice to sound more normal. "I was informed I would find all the answers I seek here in this room. I did not particularly understand it at first, but now that I have been here, I think I do," he explains, his gaze greedily caressing Caleb's every feature; it is as if he cannot get enough.

"What do you mean?" the raven's voice questions, his confusion filling his words and scrunching his face in the most adorable way; it makes Henry's heart beat faster.

"I mean..." he begins, pausing for a second as he decides the best word choice to explain himself. "I think that you are the answer to all the questions that have been plaguing me, Caleb," Henry says softly, stepping closer to the beautiful boy. He is now so close that their bodies are practically touching, the space between them almost nonexistent.

Caleb's breath hitches in his throat as Henry's warm, sweet breath fans across his face. His gaze drops from Henry's eyes to his lips, and, for a second, he ponders kissing him. He has never kissed anyone before, but he has read many stories of kissing in his many fairytales; he is almost certain he could do it. It would be easy at this moment to simply inch forward and press his lips tenderly against Henry's. The thought alone sends a thrilling shiver down Caleb's spine, and he has to force himself to look up again to prevent himself from actually doing it. Would Henry even want to kiss him? Surely, they would not be standing so impossibly close to each other if he was not sharing the same feelings. Would he?

Would it hurt to find out?

He does not want to risk it. Caleb's heart begins racing in his chest, pounding against his ribcage so hard that it feels like it may break free. His stomach flutters wildly like a hundred ravens are flapping their wings inside of it. The skin on his arms resembles gooseflesh, even though his body has long gotten used to the chill of the drafty tower. What is this feeling that has so unexpectedly overcome him? Whatever it is, Caleb surely does not hate it--in fact, he might even say that he likes it immensely. "Henry..." he whispers.

The prince thoroughly enjoys the sound of Caleb saying his name once again, relishing it. It sounds even better in a whisper, as if it is a secret shared between the two of them; Henry is almost bursting in anticipation, eager to hear all the many ways his beautiful Caleb can say his name.

A question springs to Henry's mind, distracting him from his apparently inappropriate chain of thought. How had Ella known that Caleb would be the one he was looking for? He is undoubtedly the one he would break his mother's beloved traditions for; Caleb is the one Henry would risk it all for, his relationship with his mother, his throne, his duty to his country, everything. But how could Ella have possibly known?

"I would very much like to get to know you better, Caleb. If you will allow it," Henry says, choosing to not waste any more time thinking about such things right now; he can discuss it with Ella later. Right now, he would much prefer to spend his time soaking in the presence of the only thing that has ever made sense in his monotonous and thoroughly controlled life.

Unable to form words, thanks to the strange new feelings rushing through him because of the prince, Caleb simply nods in response.